


A new Iron Curtain

by waitwhattttttt



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Hollstein - Freeform, lawstein friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:03:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitwhattttttt/pseuds/waitwhattttttt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Investigative journalist Laura Hollis is captured while writing a story on the regime in Styria. Her photographer, Carmilla, was the last person to see her alive. Features Danny Lawrence as Secretary of State, with bonus appearances by LaFontaine, Perry, Kirsch, and a very evil Ell.</p><p>I took some liberties with characters' back stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this fic, I made Styria its own country instead of the province in Austria it actually is. Thanks for indulging!

“Secretary Lawrence, how is Mircalla Karnstein not a suspect at this point, especially given her secrecy and family ties?” The reporter asked, clearly frustrated. The press corps usually does an excellent job of staying neutral, but when one of their own goes missing, all bets are off- especially when that reporter is the beloved Laura Hollis.

Danny Lawrence sighed from behind the podium, the seal of the Secretary of Defense pasted to the front. She and Laura had been friends since college, supporting each other as their respective careers came to have larger and larger impacts. One of Laura’s first stories had been about Danny’s candidacy when she ran for State House all those years ago. She was stubborn and diligent, but also understanding and honest, making her a favorite among cabinet members and readers alike.

“The fact remains that Ms. Karnstein has been fully cooperative from the beginning,” Danny stated flatly. “She has provided us with the photographs of when Ms. Hollis was last seen and has offered a number of helpful leads since her own escape.”

From behind her, Danny’s bodyguard- Kirsch- whispered in her ear. She nodded and faced the rest of the room. “Thank you, I’m afraid that’s all we have time for today. As promised, we intend to make our investigation into the disappearance of Laura Hollis as transparent as possible while ensuring that neither her safety nor ours are compromised.”

She turned her heel and made her way to her office, strides long and quick. “Did they ask her to leave?” Danny asked Kirsch with more venom than she intended.

“I think they’re afraid of her,” he replied, smiling softly as they opened the door to Danny’s office.

Carmilla was already sitting on the couch in the middle of the room, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands folded as if she was praying. Danny knew Carmilla wasn’t one to pray, but she also knew that if there was anything that would push her to start, it would probably be this whole mess.

“I told you we’d send for you if we needed you,” Danny said with a hint of sympathy. She dismissed Kirsch and closed the door behind her.

“You need to let me help,” Carmilla said standing rigidly.

“Carmilla, you’ve done all you can.”

“I can do more!” She was already yelling.

“You’re a photographer!”

“I’m a Karnstein!”

 At that, Danny paused. She sat and gestured for Carmilla to do the same across from her. “Look,” she started, “I know this is really personal for you—”

 “—And it’s not for you?”

Danny’s eyes hardened. “Not in the same way and you know that. You’re worried about Laura and your mom? I’m worried about Laura, the press corps, a dictator whose regime is notorious for violence and corruption. The Karnstein name is synonymous with blood, not diplomatic relations. It’s not like I can just kick the door down and rescue Laura guns blazing.”

“I can.”

“You already tried that and look where it got you. You were lucky you were even able to escape.”

“It’s because I know that place and those people like the back of my hand—”

“—which is why we appreciated your blueprints and personnel briefs. But you’ve done all you can. You need rest. And I need you to lay low.”

“‘Lay low’ my ass, Xena.” Carmilla left in a huff, face set and eyes still defiant. She left the building and made her way to the nearest metro station, on her way to her next appointment at a newsroom. She made it there fifteen minutes early.

When one of the producers from MSNBC had called about doing an interview, she knew she’d be exposing herself to all manners of personal questions, but she’d do anything to make sure finding Laura would remain a top priority. Letting news stories go by the way side is a good way to make sure the cabinet loses focus on certain topics.

Hair, done. Make-up, done. Mic, check. 3-2-1.

“Welcome back. My guest tonight, a lightning rod in the middle of the investigation into the disappearance of reporter Laura Hollis: Mircalla Karnstein, though you may know her as photographer Carmilla Stein. Thank you for joining us.”

“I appreciate the chance to be here.”

The niceties were dull as Carmilla tried to keep the best parts of the stories for herself and those closest to her and Laura. How did they meet? What was it like working together? What was this story that was so important? All the questions led up to the portion of the interview Carmilla had needed the most: maybe she wasn’t Laura’s hero, but she certainly wasn’t the villain everyone wanted her to be.

“Now, can you paint us a picture of how you even found yourselves in that situation?”

“Sure,” Carmilla prepared herself for the abbreviated version. “I took particular interest in the story because of my familiarity with Styria, with the players, the setting, and yes, because of my family. I hoped that my being there would ensure the team’s safety in case we ran into trouble.”

“And to be clear, that’s because your mother is the President of Styria.”

“Dictator. Yes.”

“You were the last person to see Laura Hollis. Where was that?”

“At the National Palace.”

“Your childhood home?”

“Yes.”

“You say they captured both of you, correct?”

“They did.”

“And yet, you are the only one who escaped? You’re the one who gets to tell this story in which you’re both victims and not necessarily a story in which you did anything your family might have asked you to. You do see how that’s suspicious, don’t you?”

“I do,” Carmilla inhaled deeply. “I would have nothing to gain from that though. It’s the whole reason I’ve built a life in the United States and not one where I grew up. I want no part of my mother’s regime- I never have. I thought that if I was able to capture this story the way it needed to be captured, then my mother could be stopped. That’s the effect Laura had—has—on me. She’s someone who not only believes that peace is possible, but that every single one of us is worth saving. That’s a rare kind of hope to find, especially in someone who’s seen as much as she has. We need to get her back.”

The host searched Carmilla’s face, looking for reasons to think she was lying. She found none. “Thank you for being here,” she said more earnestly this time. She faced the camera. “To know Laura Hollis is to love her. We’re waiting for you to get home.”

CUT. Cue the sudden bustle of camera operators and production assistants crisscrossing their way around the set. The host stood up. “I mean it: thank you. I know I was really combative, but all of us are horrified at what could be happening to Laura right now. We just wish we had someone to blame.”

“Right.” Carmilla guessed this was the part where she was supposed to make the other person feel better. If Laura was there, she would have shot her a glare with her arms crossed. “I understand,” she said. It was like she was still carrying little bits of Laura with her through her days. “I have to go.”

Twenty minutes later, she was at her front door, only someone had beaten her to it. She smiled, remembering all the other moments that seeing LaF had annoyed her, mostly because of all the interrupting.

“That was bold,” they said. “Perry made cookies, figured I’d interrupt your super busy evening.”

Carmilla looked at the tray and smiled. Chocolate chip. Laura’s favorite. She looked at LaF. “You’ll have to forgive the watered down version of all the fun stories earlier. I wanted to keep all the best stuff as our own.”

“I get it,” LaF nodded. “But that stuff is always way funnier when you tell it for real. I brought the cookies, so I’m gonna barter them for the real stories now.”

The two entered the apartment. LaF sat on the couch while Carmilla poured them both glasses of wine and joined them in the living room. “Did you know that she absolutely hated me when we first met?”


	2. Chapter 2

Going back to Styria had been Carmilla’s first international assignment. Most international news outlets covering rebellions focused on Syria or Egypt or Ukraine, but few had ever even mentioned the rebels in Styria. It seemed like a gamble for an up-and-coming reporter to take on, but Laura Hollis took it upon herself to make sure that _someone_ was reporting on this: people had to know.

The cold pricked at Carmilla’s skin like tiny needles as soon as she stepped off the plane in her hometown. _Note to self_ , she thought, _get more layers_. Eventually she managed to get to their staging location as circumstances did not allow for an office or even a proper hotel. Once on site, an assistant pointed her to the barracks she’d be sharing with the reporter. _Could be worse_ , Carmilla told herself.

She made her way across the threshold, plopped her bag down in the middle of the room and opened the mini fridge. There was a microwave on top, so she poured herself a glass of milk and proceeded to make a cup of hot chocolate.

“Who the hell are you?” An incredulous voice asked from across the room. Standing on the other side of the tent was a woman not much shorter than she, but with her body tensed and a face indicating that she was already annoyed. Cute.

“I’m your new photographer, sweetheart,” Carmilla smirked. This was going to be fun.

Carmilla had admittedly spent the first few weeks of that assignment going out of her way to annoy the reporter: eating the other woman’s cookies, leaving her clothes all over the place, and just being less than cordial over all. But as they delved deeper and deeper into the story, Carmilla couldn’t help keeping her fondness for Laura from bubbling up to the surface every now and then. She was never sure how the other woman felt about her though.

“I think I have a new lead,” Laura breathed out excitedly hanging up the phone one day. She put down the cup of chocolate Carmilla had prepared for her and began packing her bag.

Carmilla took the cue began assembling her gear: lenses, tripod, filters- everything. “And who are we following up with this time, cutie?” She smirked as Laura’s cheeks flushed with color.

“Hans and Freida Weber,” Laura said after gathering her composure. “Apparently their daughter joined the regime about ten years ago and they haven’t been in touch with her since. Her name is—”

“—Eloisa Weber,” Carmilla interrupted. She froze. “Ell. I don’t really see how that’s relevant to the story.”

“How could this not be relevant?” Laura retorted.

“Is this some sort of a joke? Who gave you that lead anyway? It’s a dead end.” Carmilla was flustered now.

“What is your issue? I have to get the whole story. Part of that means understanding how The President has managed to stay in power all this time: how does she recruit? How is her whole operation sustainable?”

“You know what? This is getting too dangerous. I think you should drop the whole thing.”

“Oh, sure. I’ve been out here for two months, but now that we have what could be our first major break, you want me to walk away? Why? Because you’re scared?”

“Because it’s not safe! Because—”

“—I don’t need your damn protection! Look, if you’re too afraid to do your job, then fine. I will go talk to the Webers myself.” Laura grabbed her bag with a huff and began to storm off.

“Wait.” Carmilla’s voice was soft now, more vulnerable than Laura had ever heard it. She turned around slowly while the brunette spoke. “You should at least make it a point not to go in there blind.”

Laura paused, unsure of how to respond. A moment ago she was enraged that Carmilla seemed like she was giving up. And now she was giving Laura this look, this look that was begging her to listen, but also something else, perhaps something deeper.

The moment stretched on and Carmilla uncrossed her arms in exasperation. “I was born Mircalla Karnstein. I changed it to Carmilla Stein when I escaped to the US. My mother is the President of Styria.”

Laura sat in disbelief as she allowed Carmilla’s words to wash over her.

***

Carmilla let the story pour out of her. Apparently, she and Eloisa—Ell, as Carmilla called her—had become friends through local chess tournaments. When they couldn’t be friends anymore, the two became lovers, each drawn to the other’s wit and intellect. That was how Ell had come to spend more and more time at the National Palace, which included the occasional small dinner with The President.

Those dinners were tense, with The President poking at Carmilla with all sorts of philosophical debates. But her daughter saw right through her: she was looking for ways to justify the increasingly contentious way she was running the country. More often than not though, Carmilla and Ell found themselves on opposite sides of each argument. It tore at them.

“We should run away,” Carmilla had suggested. “What my mom is doing—I can’t stand by and let it happen anymore. I can’t stop her though. Come with me.”

Ell had paused for a moment before agreeing. Her saying “yes” was what got Carmilla organizing the best laid plans, relying on rebel forces to smuggle the two of them out of the country. The night they were slated to leave, though, they were met by The President, who embraced Ell as if she was her own daughter. “Thank you, darling,” she had said.

Carmilla stood there, dumbfounded. “I don’t understand.”

Ell spoke first. “All those things you hate, Milly? They’re keeping this country going.” Carmilla was in disbelief. “You think people would have places to live and food to eat if The President didn’t run this country the way she does?”

“This country is run on the backs of unpaid laborers and corruption.” She was still flustered. “And what does this have to do with _us_? We were supposed to disappear in France and build a life together! Why are you doing this?”

“It needed to be done,” Ell responded coldly.

Carmilla turned to her mother. “You’re a monster,” she said, defeated.

“And you’re weak.” The President hissed. She snapped her fingers and suddenly everything went dark.

She had no idea how much time had passed by the time she woke up, but when she did she was strapped to a table. She was dizzy, exhausted, parched.

“Good morning, Ms. Karnstein,” said a voice she didn’t recognize. “A few of your rebel friends have escaped, so you’re going to help us find them.” Carmilla tried to spit, but her mouth was too dry. “Right! Water.”

Rough hands squeezed her jaw open from her cheeks and poured water. “There,” the voice said. “Now, tell me where I can find Hans Zimmer.”

“I don’t know,” Carmilla said, her voice hoarse. A sudden surge of power ripped its way through her body, the agony consuming every fiber of her being.

“Did you know,” the voice stated, “that there are those who consider giving people water before electrocuting them to be cruel and unusual? I say, if we’re already electrocuting people, why should the fun stop there?”

And so it went on for days and weeks. When the electrocution didn’t work, they starved her. Then they tried sleep deprivation, anything to get the answers out of her. 

***

“How did you escape?” Laura asked softly.

“Rebel forces got me out. Hans actually took a bullet for me. I watched him die.” Carmilla clenched her jaw in a futile attempt to keep the tears from falling. “They nursed me back to health and got me to the U.S. I got to the country just in time to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. I always wonder whether or not their goal is even attainable, whether all of that was worth it. That was ten years ago.”

“Carm,” Laura took Carmilla’s hands in her own. “Their goal is attainable. The idea that Styria could be a just and peaceful place is worth working towards. And everyone’s worth saving.” She lifted gently lifted Carmilla’s chin. “Especially you.”

Carmilla scoffed and stood up, using the ends of her shirt to wipe her tears. “What do you know anyway, creampuff?”

Normally, that would aggravate Laura, but after Carmilla had made herself so open, she understood the brunette’s need for a moment of levity. Laura grabbed a box of tissues and smiled.

“Thank you,” Carmilla responded.

Laura tucked Carmilla’s hair behind her ear, stroking her as she spoke. “I know that most people being tortured would have said anything to make it stop. I know that coming back here must be intensely difficult for you, even if you do have a different name. I know that you’re more heroic than you give yourself credit for, and I know that you think peace in Styria is still possible, or you wouldn’t have taken this assignment.”

Carmilla released a breath she didn’t know she was holding, allowing Laura to take over all her senses. She let herself be fully consumed by the softness of the blonde’s touch, the smell of her skin, the way she looked at her with a tenderness Carmilla couldn’t quite identify.

She sighed as the reality of her situation. “I’m sure that the Webers blame me for Ell joining the regime.”

“You should come with me anyway.” She still had her hands on Carmilla’s shoulders.

_How did Laura manage to make her voice so gently authoritative?_ Carmilla thought to herself. _Could Laura feel her getting distracted?_

“Look,” Laura continued. “Maybe you could let me spend some time with them for twenty minutes or so, and then I can send you a text to tell you to come in. Give you the chance to reconcile with each other.”

“Okay,” Carmilla agreed.

She look at Laura intensely, gaze falling to her lips as Carmilla placed one hand on the side of the other woman’s face. Laura tilted her head, allowing her lips to graze the brunette’s neck before planting a soft kiss just under her ear. And another on her jaw as Carmilla breathed her in. Another kiss on the corner of Carmilla’s mouth. A smile formed on the smaller woman’s mouth as Carmilla leaned in and –

“—Hey, the Jeep is ready to g- Oh, I am so sorry!” LaFontaine stood at the entrance of the barracks, suddenly flustered.

Carmilla and Laura startled apart.

“What’s going on?” Perry asked, appearing in the doorway. “Why are we all standing here? We’re going to be late!” She stood at the doorway with her hands on her hips. “Let’s go!”

“Right,” Carmilla said, rolling her eyes and getting her gear. Laura followed suit with her own bag and climbed into the Jeep with the others.

“I understand that we have to follow the rules make bring at least one person from the barracks with us, but when did the ginger twins become a two-for-one deal?” Carmilla didn’t bother whispering: she was visibly annoyed.

“Carm!” Laura slapped her thigh.

“No harm ever came from having a medic around, you know,” LaF said, turning around with her mouth full.

“Are there cookies?!” Laura exclaimed.

“Perry made your favorite,” LaF replied, extending the tupperware container full of cookies. Laura immediately wolfed one down and took two more to keep on her lap. LaF offered the cookies to Carmilla.

“No thanks,” she responded. “My personality is sweet enough.”

They had a good laugh at that while Laura rolled her eyes.


End file.
